


The Desire Comes Crashing In

by WataruWatanabe



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Play, Blood, Blood Kink, Blood Play, FE3H Wank Week, Fantasizing, Guilt, M/M, Masturbation, One-Sided Attraction, Oral Sex, Trans Dimitri, Trans Male Character, afab language, amab language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:00:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25778557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WataruWatanabe/pseuds/WataruWatanabe
Summary: Try as he might, Sylvain can't stop his eyes from lingering on the blood that graces Dimitri's cheek. The blood follows the swell of his cheek, accentuating the planes of his face, and the more Sylvain looks the more he can't stop thinking about how well blood suits Dimitri. Sylvain knows he shouldn't think of one of his oldest friend this way, but he can't help how his cock hardens at the idea of Dimitri beneath him, sweaty and bloody and eager.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Dimtri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier (One-sided)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	The Desire Comes Crashing In

**Author's Note:**

> I found out about the FFE3H wank week like half way through, and I decided I should be super self-indulgent, so here we are. This is for the guilt and fantasizing prompts. 
> 
> Warnings: 
> 
> There's lots of blood in this fic; Sylvain wants Dimitri to be absolutely covered in it, so if that squicks you then this probably isn't for you
> 
> I use a mixture of AFAB and AMAB language for Dimitri's genitals (cunt, dick)

In the five years that Dimitri had been gone, Sylvain had thought he sorted out all the feelings he could possibly have for his prince. The actuality of seeing Dimitri again made Sylvain realize he hadn’t really sorted anything out. He had thought he came to terms with Dimitri as a friend. Dimitri had been a prude, eager stick in the mud at seventeen, not as awkward with his limbs and strength as he had been at thirteen. Sylvain believed he would never see Dimitri as anything more than a friend since, well, how was he to look at the baby fat that stubbornly clung to Dimitri’s cheek and see his boyish smile and not think of the boy he’d known for all his life? Looking at Dimitri now, bigger and broader than Sylvain, jaw sharp and no baby fat in sight, Sylvain realized he was wrong to think he could never see Dimitri as attractive. 

And, Sylvain had thought he’d come to terms with his grief and trying to reconcile Felix’s idea of Dimitri with his own, but once again Sylvain was proved wrong. Seeing Dimitri affected Sylvain more than he cared to admit. All the weeks of grief over the loss of Dimitri seemed not to matter while also being apt. Felix always claimed that Dimitri died two years after Duscar in his first battle as a leader; Sylvain thought Dimitri died five years ago. The cold standoffish man before Sylvain could not possibly be the same boy he’d known for practically his whole life. It was only after seeing Dimitri in battle again did Sylvain realize Felix’s comparison to a boar wasn’t far off. Dimitri in battle, now, was ruthless and harsh. Blood spilled around him by the gallons, and while on the battlefield the sight of blood drenching the frost bitten grass was stomach churning, seeing the blood grace Dimitri’s face and neck had heat gripping at Sylvain’s stomach and tugging it down to his groin. 

Sylvain knew himself pretty well. He knew what got him going and what turned him right off. He knew well enough that he liked blood, had sex with women during mestration enough times to know the sight of him and his partner smeared in blood made his dick throb and fill quicker than anything else. He had no idea how into it he was until he saw the way blood would curve along Dimitri’s cheek, following the swell of his cheekbone down into the hard cut of his jaw. He liked the way blood would be smeared across Dimitri’s skin after a battle, matting his hair, sullying his cheeks and forehead and wherever else Dimitri had touched with his bloody gauntlets. Even the sight of blood seeping from one of Dimitri’s own wounds had Sylvain’s blood rushing from the head on his shoulders to the one between his legs. After every battle it only got worse, his fantasies growing and expounding, crashing over him like waves and receding just the same once Sylvain convinced himself he should not be thinking of Dimitri like that. 

Sylvain had thought maybe this new fascination with a blood covered Dimitri was the result of this cold man who claimed to be his liege; the complete separation from the eager boy he used to know driving the fixation. Before him was a stranger, a handsome stranger, and the novelty of it must had been what fueled his thoughts. That theory came crashing down once whatever rapid spell that held Dimitri broke, and he came back to them. Sylvain couldn’t get his mind off the idea of a bloody Dimitri underneath him, groan low and deep as Sylvain rubbed the blood into his skin. 

Unbidden, the fantasies kept building, the waves lapping at his subconscious whenever he was alone in his tent. They came more and more frequently, enticing him to picture Dimitri after battle, sweaty and bloody. The fantasies crashed over him until, after a particularly brutal battle, Sylvain had to walk away into the woods: he couldn’t even manage walking back to camp to take care of the problem between his legs. 

Sylvain walked away from the battalion into the woods, far enough away that the chatter of the troops died to a soft hum. He stopped in front of a tree and rested his forehead against it as he undid his stupid belt and pant lacings. The leather was tight and constrictive, pressing his erection firmly against his thigh no matter how much his cock strained against the fabric. He shucked his pants down to his thigh, the air cool against the residual sweat on the top of his ass, and his small clothes soon followed, so his cock could spring free. He pulled off the gauntlet from his right hand, letting the grimy piece of armor fall to the floor for now. The air was cold against his heated cock, and it twitched in anticipation as his right hand traced down the vein on the underside. 

Sylvain’s eyes fell closed, and he allowed his mind to finally sink into the ocean of thoughts he’d had about Dimitri and blood, letting the ideas wash over him and evelop him fully. He let himself imagine Dimitri, underneath him, chest bloody and exposed as Sylvain straddled him. He imagined the light thatch of hair on Dimitri’s chest that picked up again as a happy trail down into his pants. He could see the way blood was smeared against Dimitri’s cheek, his bottom lip bitten and cracked slightly in the center, bisected by a raw red split, softly welling with a drop of blood. 

“Fuck,” Sylvain murmured, reaching down to wrap his hand around his length. He gave himself a pump, hand slicked by the sweat that had accumulated while he had worn his gauntlet. Lifting his head up, he braced his forearm against the tree to rest his head against instead of the rough tree bark. He let his eyes stay closed, hand teasing himself, playing with the glans and thumbing the slit and frenulum.

In his mind, Sylvain leaned down, pressing his lips against Dimitri’s, licking along his lower lip and tasting the heady copper of his blood. Sylvain kissed Dimitri again and again, licking into his mouth, getting drunk of the moans and metallic tang. When he pulled away, Dimitri’s lips were shiny with spit, stained with blood, eye glazed as he breathed shallowly, cheek still smeared with blood that followed the contour of his cheek. He brought his hand down to play with Dimitri’s pec, kneading the muscle and drawing out a pleased little coo from Dimitri. Reverently, Sylvain ran his hands through the thatch of Dimitri’s chest hair, letting his fingers tangle in it as Sylvain brought his mouth down to lick along Dimitri’s neck, clean away the smear of blood that appeared just below his jaw. Dimitri arched into him, back curving and hips pushing up against Sylvain’s. 

Sylvain sucked at the skin just below Dimitri’s jaw, hands untangling from blonde chest hair to smooth down Dimitri’s pecs and then push them up, cupping the underside as he squeezed, fingers catching the raised bumps of scars underneath. 

“Sylvain, please, I-” Dimitri said, large hands coming to grip at Sylvain’s thighs, hands so wide that they encompassed half of Sylvain’s, the heat of them scalding even through the fabric of his pants. 

“What, Mitya? What do you need?” 

“More. I- please touch me.” 

“I am.” Sylvain gave Dimitri’s pecs a squeeze for emphasis. 

“Lower.” 

“Oh? You want me here?” Sylvain ground down against Dimitri, enjoying the way Dimitri whined and flushed. 

“Yes.” It was wanton and breathless, and Sylvain pulled away to look at Dimitri sat so needy beneath him. Streaks of blood decorated Dimitri’s chest here and there while some stray blood marked his stomach, coating his happy trail. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll give it to you.” Sylvain leaned down and licked up a patch of blood from the meat of Dimitri’s chest, latching on and sucking before giving a nip as he moved away to work on another patch. His hands left smears of blood here and there as they worked their way down to deal with Dimitri’s laces. 

As Sylvain tugged at the laces, he kept his mouth preoccupied with running over the valleys and plains of Dimitri’s chest, licking down into the divot between pecs, flesh flushed and fevered against his lips. He moved off Dimitri’s legs, pulling Dimitri’s pants down and off his legs, trailing his hands along the curve of Dimitri’s calves as they were freed. . 

Sylvain ran his hands up the inside of Dimitri’s thigh, smearing blood on the soft inner skin and up into the crease of his legs. He let his hands run back down, thumbs teasing at Dimitri’s folds before parting them. He took in Dimitri beneath him, face and chest flushed, blood smeared along his chest and thighs, legs open and willing, body pliant. 

“Fuck, Mitya.” Sylvain groaned, moving back to lay on his stomach. He kissed the inside of Dimitri’s thighs, running his lips up to the juncture of groin and leg, nipping and teasing, humming against the skin when Dimitri let out a whine and pushed his hips up. He moved his head, nestling his face into Dimitri’s cunt, nose resting in his pubic hair as his breath ghosted over the wet folds, so hot against his mouth. He pressed a kiss to the folds, moving down to kiss over Dimitri’s entrance before moving back up and letting his breathe fan over Dimitri’s engorged cock, twitching and full. 

Sylvain teased Dimitri’s cock, licking up the underside, bringing up his hand to pull the foreskin back, teasing at the head. While his mouth was open, he let Dimitri’s cock rest against his tongue as he looked up, pleased to find Dimitri’s eye focused on him. He kept his eyes trained on Dimitri as he closed his mouth and sucked, sinking down. The feeling of Dimitri’s cock twitching against his tongue and low moan it drew out of Dimitri spurred Sylvain on into bobbing his head and hollowing his cheeks. Dimitri let his head fall back, eye contacting breaking, and Sylvain let his own eyes close, savoring the slick coating his chin everytime he went down. 

Keeping at it, Sylvain brought his hands up, one splaying Dimitri’s folds while the other teased down Dimitri’s taint to his ass, rubbing against Dimitri’s hole. It earned him one of Dimitri’s big hands tangling in his hair, forcing his head down as Dimitri’s hips jumped up. Sylvain moaned around Dimitri’s cock before pulling off with a wet pop, licking at the underside again before moving down to lick at Dimitri’s fold, nose brushing up against his dick as he brought his tongue down to play at his entrance. The hand in his hair tighten, and Sylvain sucked at Dimitri’s lips, drinking down the slick that coated them. He kept his finger teasing against Dimitri’s asshole, pushing just enough to get the muscle to give before letting up and circling as the muscles contracted against the callous pad of his finger. 

“Sylvain,” Dimitri whined, his grip on Sylvain’s hair brutal. 

“Come for me, Mitya.” Sylvain said against Dimitri’s cunt, placing another open kiss against the entrance before taking Dimitri’s cock back in his mouth. 

The action had Dimitri tensing against Sylvain, hips grinding up into his face as slick gushed against his chin, asshole spasming against his finger as Dimitri came with a high breathless cry. Sylvain kept sucking, letting Dimitri fuck up against his face while one hand rubbed over his cunt. He kept his mouth on Dimitri until Dimitri went limp against him, thighs pushing up against his cheeks in an effort to close. Sylvain pulled off, kissing against Dimitri’s cock and then over his cunt one last time before pulling away. He wiped his mouth, sticky and wet from Dimitri’s orgasm. 

He sat up, eyes drinking in Dimitri, sated and fucked out, still flushed from face to chest with smears of blood on his cheek, chest, leading up his thighs to his cunt, eye glazed and unfocused as he looked up at Sylvain. 

“Fuck, Mitya, Mitya,” Sylvain chanted into the bark of the tree, hand jacking furiously as he imagined Dimitri. 

Heat built in his gut, balls tightening as he lower body tensed, sweat building up as he felt himself tumbling over. His cock jerked, cum spilling against his hand as he kept it gripped around his glans, fucking into the tight heat.

He blinked his eyes open, looking down at the mess of cum on his hand. Some had dripped down onto his gauntlet, but in the sweaty warm haze of post orgasm he couldn’t really bother himself to care. He kept his forehead rested on his forearm as his breathing evened out, sweat cooling on his face while he teased at the glans, spreading his cum around. 

As the lusty hazy cleared from his head, Sylvain sighed and looked down at his hand, wet and messy with his spend, then down to his gauntlet. He wiped his hand on his small clothes, cringing at the mess, but he had to bath later anyway; he could feel the grim of battle sinking into his skin. He tucked himself away, grimacing at the uncomfortable wetness where he had wiped his cum before bending down to pick up his gauntlet. From what he could see, the damage wasn’t so bad, only a few drops of his seed, so he had escaped a jizz stained gauntlet for now. 

“Sylvain? Sylvain, are you out here?” 

The voice made Sylvain flinch, back snapping to straightness and hand tucking his gauntlet into his belt.

“Sylvain, there you are. Is everything alright? The professor wanted us to debrief after the battle, but no one had seen you.” Dimitri said as he appeared from the trees. 

“I just needed a little time to think,Your Highness. Sorry for the inconvenience.” Sylvain said, looking away from Dimitri. “Let’s go back to camp, yeah?” 

Sylvain pat Dimitri on the back and moved past him, the cold grip of guilt taking hold of him. Dimitri still had some blood on his armor and his neck, just below the corner of his jaw. Sylvain wanted to reach out, touch, lick Dimitri clean. Dimitri was his liege, one of his longest friends. He trusted Sylvain, presented Sylvain as someone trustworthy and good, yet here Sylvain was sullying Dimitri’s image with debased thoughts of sex and reveling Dimitri covered in bloodshed.

“Bet I can make it back to camp before you.” Sylvain said with a look over his shoulder before he broke into a run. 

“That’s hardly fair!” Dimtiri said as he followed, his intimidating air melting away as his eagerness took over. Sylvain glanced back, and for a second he could see the same boy he’d known all his life.

Sylvain had to agree it was hardly fair, but for now all he could do was run and hope to keep away from the ocean of thoughts whose waves always managed to lap at his ankles before pulling him in.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated ^v^


End file.
